


Tell Me All You Found (Was Heartbreak and Misery)

by alouise



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant ish, Harry's really good at blowjobs, I cried writing this, Jealous by Labrinth, M/M, So much angst, but it's a happy ending, louis tops, management
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alouise/pseuds/alouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lou, please. Look at me,” Harry pleads, and the tone of his voice makes Louis’ heart clench. He sounds desperate, almost as desperate as Louis feels. So he looks up.</p><p>He meets Harry’s green eyes in the dimness of the room, the only source of light coming from the window. Moonlight filters through the glass and cuts through the darkness, half of Harry’s face in the dark and the other half in the light. Louis’ breath catches because Harry looks beautiful like this, bright and glowing softly like magic on one side and dark and lovely sad on the other. Louis wants to take Harry’s face in his hands and reacquaint himself with those gorgeous lips once more, find out if they are still as soft and sweet as they were. </p><p>or the one where Louis and Harry drift apart year after year, and Louis doesn't know if he can get any more broken than he already is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me All You Found (Was Heartbreak and Misery)

_“I’m jealous of the rain_   
_That falls upon your skin_   
_It’s closer than my hands have been…”_

Louis honestly thinks nobody could be more beautiful in this world than Harry Styles.

It is a fact that he has readily accepted and, even if it has somewhat pained for him to do so, he has dwelled on that fact countless times since he met the boy in the toilets at the X Factor auditions. It’s been two years since they first met, and still he can remember with terrifying clarity Harry’s green eyes widening at that defining moment of their lives, the sheepish, dimpled smile on his boyish face and the almost frighteningly quick way he stole Louis’ heart with a simple word.

“Do you think it’d be mad if I went out in the rain right now?”

Louis snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of the said boy’s voice, not realizing he had been staring at Harry, who was absentmindedly looking out the window of their flat. Louis sits up straighter on the sofa, pushing his thoughts away, because when did they ever do him any good? “You want to have a shower under the rain?” He could hear the disbelief in his own voice. Thunder suddenly booms eerily loud, and Louis winces. It’s just like Harry to want to do something as insane as this.

Harry looks at him then, an excited twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, could be fun. And we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us, it’s night already.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, willing himself not to smile (but failing miserably). “Us?”

Harry smiles back, lovely and careless. “Yes, Lou, us.”

Louis groans, falling back down into his folded up position on their couch and closing his eyes. His heart flutters a bit. _Us._ “Really, Haz? I don’t want us to get sick.”

“Aw, come on, Lou!” Harry whines, and Louis hears him walking over to the couch and flopping down beside Louis, the dip of the cushions an indication. “Where’s your sense of fun? Or are you too old for fun now?”

Louis cracks an eye open and looks at Harry sideways, and there’s a mischievous quality to the way Harry is looking at him now, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and Louis can’t bring himself to say no to the challenge Harry’s posing to him. Can never say no to a thing Harry says, actually.

“Alright, you massive dork, I’m coming,” Louis says with a sigh, hoping he doesn’t sound too fond as he stands up and stretches. He’s been sitting on that couch for too long anyway.

“Come on, hurry up, Lou!” Harry says, already at their back door, bouncing up and down excitedly on his heels. Louis thinks he should be more turned off than endeared with the way Harry looks so much like his sixteen-year old self just like when they first met, naïve and wide-eyed and so carefree, but well. When it comes to Harry, Louis can’t really control what he feels anymore.

They step out onto their back garden, and the moment Harry feels the rain on his skin he gives a loud excited whoop that has Louis’ heart bursting with affection. Then Harry immediately pulls off his pyjama shirt – yup, he still wears pyjamas – and runs headfirst into the rain with a thrilled shout, causing himself to nearly slip on the wet grass. Louis giggles, unable to help himself as he watches Harry try to regain his balance. When that’s accomplished, Harry looks up at the sky and, putting his arms out, spins around, wild laughter escaping from his wet lips. He is completely drenched, and definitely is a sight to see: his curls slicked back against his long neck, his bare chest glistening with rainwater, the drops reflecting orange from the lampposts and the almost crazed smile that lights up his whole face. Louis stands there for a moment, entranced by this beautiful boy shining in the moonlight. _God, I’m in love with an idiot._ Watching him laugh and kick at the wet grass like a kid, Louis is filled suddenly with so much ache and longing, that even if he’s the only one who gets to see Harry like this, he won’t ever get to have him the way he wants.

Then Harry slips on the grass to his back with a loud surprised shriek, and Louis’ running over to help him because _ohmygod if Harry’s injured himself this is going to be all my fault,_ but then he also promptly slips and ends up falling hard onto the grass beside Harry, the wind knocked out of his lungs. They look at each other in a moment of surprise and then promptly burst into fits of laughter, the only sound they can hear apart from the rush of rainfall being their hysterical giggles, and Louis thinks maybe he can forget about the ache in his heart for a little while longer if he could have this Harry all to himself.

  
  
_“I’m jealous of the wind_   
_That ripples through your clothes_   
_It’s closer than your shadow…”_

Louis always has been overly protective of Harry. It comes naturally, almost as if on instinct, to shield the younger boy from any possible danger that could come to him. It’s as if Louis had been programmed to watch over Harry and promptly panic whenever something bad happens to him, always ready to be a shoulder to cry on, a replacement for a doting, worried mother or something. Louis would be anything for Harry, just to see him safe and happy.

It’s on one of the days of the You & I shoot, and Louis’ just finished his first part of shooting. He’s chilling with Zayn, Liam and Niall in the little shop that the crew has converted as their little hair and make-up studio. He has a steaming cup of tea in his hands, made just the way he likes it, and Louis feels content as a kitten in the warm, cosy room, considering he’s been spending the previous half-hour shivering outside on that patio walk thing. It really is bloody cold outside, and Louis is more than glad to be inside again.

He’s a bit worried for Harry though, as it is now his turn to shoot his first scene on the walk, and it’s been thirty-five minutes since he started and still he hasn’t come back. _What if he trips on one of the loose floorboards? What if he gets pooped on by a passing seagull? What if he freezes to death out there?_ Louis shakes his head, telling himself that he’s being an awful worrywart and that he’s not really Harry’s mum, for crying out loud. He needn’t worry about Harry all the time anymore. Harry is a man now; he can take care of himself.

And only when panicked members of their crew rush in the studio urgently shouting for coats and blankets for Harry because _he is literally freezing his balls off_ , one of them screams, did Louis shove his cup of tea into Niall’s hands unceremoniously and rush out the door, quite rudely grabbing a bunch of blankets from one of the crew members. When he’s out, he thinks he’s glad he hasn’t taken his coat off. He tries to ignore the sting of the cold, biting wind on his cheeks as he sprints down the boardwalk towards the little group huddled on the far end. He can make out the top of Harry’s head in the middle of the huddle, his long brown hair whipping fiercely in the wind, turning straight at the force.

He gets to the group and, barely hearing their protests, pushes them out of the way so he can get to Harry trembling violently in the middle. He is dimly aware of some cameras clicking around him as he wraps blanket after blanket around Harry’s shivering form, working methodically and trying to calm the erratic beating of his anxious heart. Harry buries his face in the warm cloth, folding in on himself even further, his face scrunched up in pain, and all Louis wants to do is haul him back into the shop and hug him until he’s warm and pliant, but then doesn’t get to as he is suddenly shoved back by a big burly git from management.

“Mr Tomlinson, please step away and return to the studio. We wouldn’t want you to freeze up either,” the man says in a rough voice. Louis then notices how the other men from management are asking those with cameras to delete those pictures from their devices _immediately or else_ , and Louis is suddenly filled with incredible rage at them. He wants to throw them into the fucking cold icy water because, what the bloody fuck, he was just saving Harry’s bloody _life,_ and if he couldn’t do even that he might as well just kill every last one of them-

He doesn’t even realize he’s stalking towards the man with his fist raised until he feels someone tug him backwards insistently. He looks over his shoulder, furious, and sees Niall cautiously looking at him, almost like a zoo keeper would at a wild, untamed beast. “Lou, come on, let’s go,” the Irish boy says quietly, eyes pleading. Louis doesn’t move, looking back at him defiantly, and Niall insists, “Lou, _please_. Don’t let them get to you.”

Louis grits his teeth and drops his fist, knowing that Niall is right. Management would have no greater satisfaction than to see Louis explode. As they walk back to the shop, Louis can’t help but look back at Harry to check if he’s alright, and his stomach swoops low when their eyes immediately meet across the walk. Louis immediately feels like he’s drowning in so much emotion – _worryloveangerlonging_ – as he desperately tries to hold Harry’s gaze. But, like every time their eyes meet nowadays, Harry quickly looks away, leaving Louis with a hollow ache in his chest.

Louis turns away, willing the tears burning at the back of his eyes away. He musn’t cry. Never, not over something as lovely and pure as this. He needs to be strong, for both of them, even if he’s not sure Harry wants it anymore. Bravery, right?

 

_“Cause I wished you the best of all this world could give  
And I told you when you left me there’s nothing to forgive…”_

Louis remembers it clear as day, as with anything important that happens between him and Harry.

Harry had gone to LA for four days without telling Louis anything about it; where he was going, who he was with, how he was going to get there, where he was going to stay. Harry just up and got on a flight to the other side of the world, not bothering to tell at least even one of the boys he was going to be gone for a while. Not bothering to tell even Louis.

Louis knows he should be angry. That would be the normal reaction of most people, when their secret boyfriends they’ve been in a tense situation with for the past month just leaves with no warning.

But all Louis feels is empty. Now, as he is folded up carelessly on their couch wearing nothing but pants and Harry’s purple sweater, staring at nothing in particular, it’s literally like there’s a massive, hollow space in his chest weighing him down. He feels tired, so tired, since their argument started last month.

_“Nothing’s working with you, Lou! You’re too bloody possessive!”_

_“Oh, now_ I’m _the one who’s possessive? Who the fuck broke and vase and cried himself to sleep when he found out I had to get papped with Eleanor again?”_

_“That’s not being possessive, Lou. You know that.”_

_“Yeah, you’re right. It’s being overly jealous.”_

_“God, I can’t take this anymore! I don’t even goddamn know why the hell I fell in love with you anymore!”_

_“Oh, is that it, Haz? You think you made a mistake by falling in love with me?”_

_“Maybe I did!”_

_“Fine! I don’t need your goddamn love anyway!”_

_…_

_“You don’t mean that.”_

_“Maybe I do.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Goddamnit, you infuriating little twat!”_

Louis closes his eyes, the heavy sigh that leaves his lips not doing anything to relieve the ache in his chest. He’s barely had any contact with Harry all month, Harry hardly giving him the chance to talk or apologize to him, and now he’s gone and left Louis, doing who-knows what with who-knows-whom. Louis doesn’t even want to dwell on the possibility that Harry might have someone other than Louis in his bed at night, not only to give Harry pleasure but also to cuddle him and kiss him softly on the lips in the aftermath. That is Louis’ job. That’s what Louis was born to do.

At the beginning, Louis was so certain that Harry would be the first one to break, the first one to get on his knees in front of him and beg for forgiveness, but now Louis finds himself wanting to do just that to Harry instead. He’s missed Harry incredibly; the sound of his soft rough voice in his ear, the way his lips brush absentmindedly against his skin when they cuddle on the couch, how his arms envelop him from behind and tickle him mercilessly, even the instances when Louis wakes up to the sight of Harry already staring at him with a sleepy, fond smile.

Louis suddenly feels tears prickling at the back of his eyes, and there’s no stopping him from crying when one fat drop rolls down his cheek, followed by another, and another. He presses his fist to his mouth, not wanting to make any sound. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe in deeply to calm himself, but it doesn’t work. He starts to choke on his own throat acting up, so he gives up trying to keep it all in and begins to scream in his fist, sobbing like a madman. He curls up into a ball on the couch and hugs his knees to his chest, finally letting go of all the sadness and heartbreak he has been feeling. Never has he felt so pathetic before; never has he ever let anyone in so close to make him feel this way.

A few hours later, when Harry comes back home and breaks his heart for the millionth time in the span of a month, Louis doesn’t know how to be okay again.

  
_“But I always thought you’d come back and tell me all you found was heartbreak and misery_   
_It’s hard for me to say_   
_I’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me...”_

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry at Harry.

In fact, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been angry with Harry at all. Mildly irritated, of course, whenever he was too hyper in the wee hours of the morning and Louis _really can’t give a damn if the birds are chirping really loud at the moment, Harold_ , and of course momentarily furious when Harry puts himself in danger for the sake of others – goddamnit, why does he have to be such a bloody _saint_ all the time – but never has he been terribly, sickeningly, full-on angry at him.

Maybe it’s finally the weight of all his emotions from all these years finally taking its toll on him, he tries to rationalize as he stares – more of glares, actually – at Harry mingling with the people he’s invited to his house party for Halloween. The other lads are at their own Halloween parties for the night, and Louis really didn’t want to go to a Halloween party in the first place; all he wanted to do was sit back and relax on his couch at his house for the break, even if the house – still, after all these years – felt achingly empty. But when Harry called him – for the first time in a long, _long_ time – to invite him to his little house party for Halloween, Louis couldn’t bring himself to say no.

He hastily put on an old black cape, some white face paint and red paint on the sides of his mouth as his vampire costume. He knows he’s been using white face paint for most of his Halloweens, but he really doesn’t give a damn what he looks like. He doesn’t think anyone would care anyway; he’s Louis fucking Tomlinson, everyone would tell him he looks great in the end.

Right now, he’s sat on Harry’s sofa, drink in hand, with the nice couple beside him making out furiously, while he’s burning holes at the back of Harry’s neck with his eyes from across the room. Nobody approaches Louis to talk to him anymore; if he saw himself in this party right now, he probably wouldn’t either.  But Louis doesn’t mean to be so anti-social. He did try to enjoy himself at the start, truly he did; he posed for pictures with a lot of people, he danced in the flashing lights with girls and boys alike, and he’s had a couple rounds of shots with people whose names he didn’t even know.

But it’s been two fucking hours since he’s arrived, and still Harry hasn’t acknowledged him, the bastard. Louis knows that Harry knows he’s here, can see it in the way that the goddamn curly-haired man positions himself across the room, back always turned to Louis and always just right out of reach. Louis wants to throw his bottle at him; why did Harry even fucking invite him to the party? It’s not like they were talking much anyway, to begin with. Sure, they joked around whenever the band was together, and they’ve still got that creepy ability of finishing each other’s sentences and jokes, but have they ever had a moment alone in the past year? Nope. Not one.

Except for that one time in the tour bus. Louis suddenly remembers it with terrifying clarity, the way Harry had looked at him with a wild, crazed look, backing him up against the wall and looking so, so desperate, his lips achingly close as he breathed over Louis’ mouth, and Louis swears he felt Harry’s heart racing in his chest against his, their bodies pressed so close, so tight, after such a long time that they could have melted into each other right then and there-

Louis snaps himself out of his thoughts before it gets too dangerous, realizing he’s had way too much to drink. He has been trying to push that memory out of his head since it happened. He focuses back on glaring holes through Harry’s nape instead, festering the anger starting to bubble in his stomach. How dare he invite Louis to the party? How dare he just blatantly ignore him since he got here? How dare he drag him out all the way here, especially after all this time of ignoring and avoiding him even after they promised nothing would change between them?

The worst part is, it isn’t even like Harry’s sad about it, all this being forced apart and eventually drifting further and further away. As far as Louis knew, he has been happy about his life, always smiling at whatever it is on his goddamn phone and making those stupid knock knock jokes that aren’t the least bit funny. He’s always laughing at something whenever Louis is there to witness it; always humming happily to whatever new song he’s discovered; always finding happiness in anything other than Louis. That’s what hurts the most: the knowledge that even without Louis, Harry could still be happy.

Tears sting at the back of Louis’ eyes, and he wipes at it furiously with the back of his hand, simply refusing to cry here in front of everyone. And, _right_ at that moment of his vulnerability, of course Harry chooses to turn around and look at him just in time to see Louis wiping at his eyes. Something changes in Harry’s green eyes, the mirth in them from just seconds ago disappearing and being replaced by something Louis doesn’t want to dwell upon, and all of a sudden Harry’s pushing his way through the crowd, familiar, beautiful green eyes now fully trained on Louis.

The music is suddenly all too loud in Louis’ ears, trying to make him burst as it booms in his veins, and now all Louis wants to do is run, run away from this party, from the music, from Harry’s goddamn eyes. He stands up abruptly, sloshing his drink on the couple beside him, and he doesn’t hear their outraged shouts at him as he pushes his way frantically through the crowd, trying to get to the door so he can escape. He really shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea. God, was he stupid?

He reaches the door, thankfully, and bursts out into the cold October – or was it November already? – night, taking huge gulps of the fresh air. He bends over and places his hands on his knees, feeling like he needs to be sick but nothing comes out. He chokes back a sob, wondering how he got himself in this situation. Wondering where everything went wrong, and when all he had left were a ton of painful memories and an empty house to go back to.

Then he hears the front door open behind him and the familiar, low voice call out, “Lou, wait!” Louis tries to ignore the desperation he hears in Harry’s voice as he wills his legs to move again. He staggers down the path, his vision going slightly hazy.

“L-leave me alone, Harry,” he manages to stammer out, before he all but drops to his knees and retches then and there, his stomach roiling. He empties his stomach and he sobs through it, clutching himself and telling himself _be strong, be strong._ He is dimly aware of Harry kneeling beside him in a rush, big hand patting his back reassuringly, whispering soft words he can’t make out but are soothing nonetheless.

It feels endless, him getting sick, but he eventually gets through it and ends up curling into a ball and crying on the path. He immediately feels Harry gather him in his arms and pull him close, and he sobs even harder at the incredibly-missed feeling of being held in Harry’s embrace once more, like everything would be alright in this world if he just stayed there forever.

“Lou. Lou, are you there? Come back to me, love, I’m here now,” he hears Harry say almost distantly, and Louis nods weakly against Harry’s chest, gripping onto his shirt tight. “Let’s get you up to my room, yeah? Get you cleaned up.”

Harry helps him stand up, and if they were to put this moment somewhere in their very distant past Louis knows Harry wouldn’t hesitate to pick him up and carry him bridal style if he had to, but oh, things have changed. This isn’t the past anymore, and as much as Louis wants to ignore it; Harry probably doesn’t love him any longer. Not in the same innocent way he did two years ago.

They go inside, and Louis is barely aware of Harry waving other people’s concern off, saying that Louis just got a bit sick and he needs to get cleaned up, and of course Harry still helps him even if they haven’t been in the best of terms with each other lately, because he’s kind like that, selfless like that, and Louis knows deep down that he could never deserve someone as kind and beautiful as Harry.

Louis doesn’t know how, but they somehow end up in Harry’s room, and a flood of memories that Louis has pushed down comes back to him in a rush, almost making him retch again all over Harry’s bed. Harry sets him on the bed gently, telling him that he’ll go get a basin and a towel for Louis to wash his face. Louis sits there numbly as Harry disappears to get the items. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the pain away, the memories away, all the goddamn heartache away, because he doesn’t think he can hide his feelings any longer, not when he’s here in Harry’s room, sat on the bed where he first made love to him, on the night before things went horribly, horribly wrong-

Then he feels that big, warm hand on his cheek and hears Harry whispering softly, “Lou? Are you there?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Harry says it for him. “Lou, shh, stop crying, love, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You just got a bit sick.”

Louis sobs quietly as Harry wipes his sick, his face paint and his tears away with a warm damp cloth, his touch gentle, always. Little whimpers escape Louis’ lips as the pads of Harry’s soft fingers brush over his face lightly, leaving a trail of something that feels like fire in its wake. He can’t believe he’s feeling Harry’s fingers on his skin again, touching him like he’s something to be loved and treasured, as if Harry wants to take care of him again. Louis can’t look at Harry in the eyes for the fear that Harry would see exactly what’s on Louis’ mind - that he’d do everything in the world to have Harry back.

“Lou?” he hears Harry say, voice soft and melodic. Reaching out to him, trying to get to him. Louis doesn’t look up still, too ashamed of himself – for vomiting, for disturbing the party, for being an absolute wreck not just today but ever since they met – to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Lou, please. Look at me,” Harry pleads, and the tone of his voice makes Louis’ heart clench. He sounds desperate, almost as desperate as Louis feels. So he looks up.

He meets Harry’s green eyes in the dimness of the room, the only source of light coming from the window. Moonlight filters through the glass and cuts through the darkness, half of Harry’s face in the dark and the other half in the light. Louis’ breath catches because Harry looks beautiful like this, bright and glowing softly like magic on one side and dark and lovely sad on the other. Louis wants to take Harry’s face in his hands and reacquaint himself with those gorgeous lips once more, find out if they are still as soft and sweet as they were before. He wants to press kisses all over his lovely face; over his lips, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. Louis longs for so much of the boy in front of him that it’s eating him up until he’s caving in once more, his bottom lip starting to tremble as indication for the incoming barrage of tears.

Harry’s eyes shift to his lips and he catches its tremble. Harry, ever so observant. Without a word, Harry lifts up a hand and runs the pad of his thumb over Louis’ lower lip, softly and barely even there. Louis’ heart stops altogether, because the melancholic, almost tortured look in Harry’s eyes as he caresses Louis’ lip has always been something Louis has seen in his own eyes when he looks at himself in the mirror.

“Fuck, Lou, I want to kiss you,” Harry whispers quietly, voice hoarse, and Louis wants to cry all over again.

“Then kiss me,” Louis croaks out, lips brushing against Harry’s thumb as he speaks.

There’s a beat of silence when Harry just looks at him, eyes widening a fraction as if he doesn’t believe what Louis just said, and Louis can’t take it anymore, can’t wait any moment longer, so he grabs Harry’s face and presses his lips against his in a moment of mindless desperation. It’s only a quick, frantic press of the lips, Harry’s whole body stiffening at the touch and Louis so nervous it makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. Louis jerks away not a second later, leaning backwards on the bed, breathing heavily as if he’s just run a marathon. They stare at each other for a moment, Harry looking shell-shocked, taken aback, and his beautiful, red lips are open in a small o.

Then Harry surges forward and suddenly pushes Louis onto the bed, and Louis yelps as Harry takes his wrists in his hands and looks down on him, green eyes almost crazed with how wide they are, gaze trailing anxiously across Louis’ face almost as if he’s afraid he’ll never be able to set his eyes on him ever again. Louis definitely does not imagine the pounding of Harry’s own heart against his chest, the erratic beating almost matching his own. Harry’s eyes then settle on Louis’ lips, lingering softly, and Louis feels his lips tingle at Harry’s yearning gaze.

Then Harry – ever so unpredictable, sweet Harry – _smiles_ , giggling a bit and making his dimple pop up. Louis wants to reach up and poke it with his thumb, watch it flirt underneath his fingertip like he always used to. Harry’s eyes glitter with hesitant mirth as he whispers with that secret, mischievous smile, “That was probably our worst kiss yet.”

A sudden flood of emotions – surprise, happiness, joy, _love_ – makes a bark of surprised laughter escape from Louis’ lips. “Harry, you absolute twat,” Louis says, slapping Harry’s chest and suddenly unable to keep himself from laughing. They giggle into each other’s ears on the bed, and when Harry’s hands slip upwards from his wrists to entwine their fingers together in two years, Louis’ heart stutters in his chest, making him feel warm all the way down to his toes.

“Louis,” Harry exhales lovingly into his ear, and Louis can feel the smile on his lips as he brushes his mouth against the shell of his ear.

“Harry,” Louis replies softly, teasingly, rubbing small circles into Harry’s knuckle with his thumb.

Harry pulls back just enough to look at Louis properly, and the smile has disappeared from his face, now replaced by a determined set of his lips and a firm look in his eyes. He stares silently, fixated only on Louis’ eyes, changing the atmosphere as sudden as he did just moments before. Louis again can hear the rush of his blood in his ears, can feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, can almost sense the words that Harry’s about to say.

“Can we start again?” Harry whispers, and Louis prides himself in correctly guessing to himself along which lines Harry’s statement would be. He smiles softly, looking up at Harry with so much warmth that he actually sees and feels Harry’s breath hitch at the look, sees in his eyes that his walls are crumbling down fast just from that one smile.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry groans out, before he kisses Louis, soft and passionate this time. Louis makes a keening sound at the back of his throat when their lips align once more after what felt like forever, and he willingly opens his mouth when Harry licks his lower lip asking for entrance. The kiss quickly turns dirty and desperate, tongues seeking one another and both men breathing erratically through their noses in hopes that they never have to pull away for air. Harry’s hands come to cup Louis’ face, angling his head to deepen the kiss, and Louis follows suit, circling Harry’s neck with his arms and pulling him even closer when he thought it was possible no longer.

When they pull away, both are breathing hard, hearts pounding in their chests, and Louis’ heart tugs painfully at the long-missed, dazed look in Harry’s blissed-out eyes. Louis thinks that he probably doesn’t look any better.

“Fuck, I’ve missed kissing you,” Harry breathes lowly, then presses another kiss to Louis’ lips, only to move them downward to Louis’ neck, kissing him softly at his sensitive spot. Louis’ eyes flutter closed and he gasps as Harry sucks at his skin right _there_ , like he’s never forgotten how to make Louis fall apart even after two years that they barely even touched.

“How…” Louis struggles to get the words out, especially when Harry makes it harder to breathe as he starts to grind against Louis, and _goodness,_ he can feel that Harry’s already as hard as he is. “Haz… how have you…” Harry, thankfully, pulls away for a moment, enough to look at Louis in the eyes with his eyebrows raised questioningly. Louis thinks he can never stop loving this boy. “How have you remembered that’s my sensitive spot?”

The moment it comes out of Louis’ lips he realizes it’s a ridiculous question, but Harry only smiles softly, a little ruefully, his eyes suspiciously bright in the dim room as he cradles Louis’ face lovingly and whispers back, “How could I ever forget?”

Louis is hopelessly endeared, but he rolls his eyes nonetheless. “You hopeless, romantic little twat,” Louis says, swatting Harry’s hand away, but only half-heartedly, because he can’t stop the pleased smile that spreads across his lips.

“I’m _your_ hopeless, romantic little twat,” Harry counters with a sincere smile, and Louis is suddenly hit full-force by how much he’s missed this side of Harry, the playful, childlike side of him that’s always drawn Louis in like a moth to the flame. Harry’s always magnetic, but when he’s like this, especially when it’s just the two of them, Louis is completely unable to resist.

“That’s right,” Louis growls, sliding his hand to Harry’s bum and squeezing it. He revels in how Harry’s eyes flutter and his obscene lips open in a silent o at the mere touch. “All mine.”

“All yours,” Harry breathes shakily against his mouth, and suddenly they’re kissing again, all the tremors of hesitation in their movements gone. Louis rolls them over so that he’s on top now, a position he hasn’t done in a very long time but still recalls how to do like it’s been imbued in his spirit to do so. He pulls his lips away from Harry’s only to suckle at that sensitive spot behind Harry’s ear, and Harry lets out a sharp gasp as his hips buck up uncontrollably, and Louis chuckles low in his throat as he laps at the bruise.

“Still so responsive to me, Harold,” Louis says smugly, trailing his hand down Harry’s torso and finally cupping Harry’s hard cock lightly through his tight black trousers. Harry lets out a pained noise, eyes squeezed close as he ruts against Louis’ hand with little whimpers escaping from his lips, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so arousing. “Fuck, you look so beautiful right now. I’d love to do so many things to you-“

“Fuck me, Lou,” Harry gasps out, snapping Louis to attention. His eyes are open now, green and lust-filled, as he looks desperately up at Louis. His cheeks are flushed, his curls matted to his sweaty forehead. He already looks utterly debauched, and they haven’t even done a thing. Louis isn’t sure how he’s going to survive this.

Harry takes Louis’ silence as a rejection, so he flushes deep red and starts to babble mindlessly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to fuck me, Lou, but could you please suck me off or give me a handjob because fuck, I’ve missed this with you _so bloody much_ , you don’t know how many times I’ve fallen asleep with sticky hands to the thought of you fucking me into this very mattress like the very first time-“

Louis suddenly squeezes Harry’s cock, effectively cutting Harry off of his mindless babbling and stealing a wild, broken moan from his throat. Louis then sticks two of his fingers in Harry’s open mouth, and Harry immediately closes his mouth and starts to lave at Louis’ fingers with his rough tongue just like he always used to. Harry looks up at Louis through his eyelashes with sex-hazed eyes, and starts to suck Louis’ fingers, hollowing his cheeks obscenely and making Louis’ cock hurt unbearably in his trousers.

When Louis pulls his fingers out from Harry’s mouth, Harry immediately rolls them over so he’s on top again, and Louis can’t help the shiver that runs down his body when Harry says, “Never mind. I think I’d like to suck _you_ off instead.”

Harry immediately gets to work, all attention focused on undoing Louis’ trousers. Louis runs a hand softly through his curls, letting out a moan when Harry pulls them down and mouths hotly over Louis’ hard cock through his pants. “Fuck, Harry, I’ve missed your gorgeous mouth,” Louis can’t help but let out as Harry pulls his pants down to reveal his massive, aching cock already dripping pre-cum.

Harry then smiles at Louis mischievously, replying, “And this mouth has missed your gorgeous, massive cock,” before he grips Louis’ cock at the base and starts suckling on the head, the warmth of his mouth and tongue driving Louis mad with lust. He fights to keep his hips from bucking up as Harry sucks his way down Louis’ dick, tongue curling deliciously on the underside like he knows Louis loves. Louis closes his eyes and revels in being in the heat of Harry’s mouth again, those lips so tight and amazing around his cock. He feels Harry tongue at his slit, and Louis moans loud once more, grabbing Harry’s hair and pulling it harshly. When Harry moans, Louis feels the vibrations around his cock, and he can’t help but groan out, “Shit, Harry, lemme fuck your throat.”

He doesn’t even have time to take back what he said in case Harry doesn’t want to before Harry all but pulls away, kneels between his legs at the side of the bed and says in a voice that’s already so deliciously wrecked, “Gladly.” His cheeks are already flushed pink, his eyes wide with lust, his lips so red and inviting, and Louis doesn’t know how he’s gone for so long without this boy.

Louis sits up quickly and scoots over to the edge of Harry’s bed, his cock standing up at attention. Harry shuffles closer and opens his mouth wide, eyelashes fluttering as he closes his darkened eyes, and Harry just looks absolutely obscene like this, better than any porn video Louis’ ever watched, that Louis fights to just shove himself into Harry’s hot mouth. He runs his fingers through Harry’s curls then grips it in his hands, slowly urging Harry's head closer to his dick. He pushes past Harry’s open lips, and immediately Harry envelops him once more around his tight heat as he inches his way, down, down, down, all the way until he’s encased in Harry’s throat.

“Harry,” Louis chokes out, and Harry chooses that moment to swallow around Louis’ cock. Unable to hold back any longer, Louis pulls back just so that the tip of his cock is in Harry’s mouth then pushes back in smoothly, breathing out a shaky moan. He starts to fuck into Harry’s gorgeous mouth, his lips around Louis’ girth tight like a vice. Louis can’t look away from the sight of his cock driving in and out of Harry’s red lips, how Harry’s eyelashes flutter on his cheeks casting long shadows on his white skin, how his curly hair feels so wonderfully soft and familiar underneath Louis’ fingers. His thrusts begin to increase in strength, fucking Harry’s throat almost mercilessly, and the way Harry just takes him with no complaint makes the heat in Louis’ stomach build up faster than expected. The way Harry's tongue is curling on the underside and how he's swallowing around him in time of Louis' strong thrusts drives him completely wild.

“Fuck, Harry, I – I can’t –“ Louis pulls out completely and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. He hears his and Harry’s harsh breathing mingling in the silent room, can feel Harry’s fingers running up his thigh reassuringly. When Louis’ calmed down, he opens his eyes and meet Harry’s blissful gaze in the dim room. Harry smiles when their eyes meet and says in a hoarse voice, “I wish you'd have came in my mouth.”

Then he surges upward and kisses Louis hard, hands cupping on either side of Louis’ face. Their tongues dance like flames between them, and Louis can taste himself on Harry’s tongue, making his painfully hard cock twitch in anticipation. Harry clambers on Louis’ lap and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, deepening their kiss even further. Louis keeps him there by dragging Harry forward by the hips, making his bare cock and Harry’s clothed one brush together. Harry moans brokenly into his mouth, grinding his hips down as they kiss passionately. Then Harry pulls away, just enough to rest their foreheads together. They’re both breathing hard, Louis tracing small circles onto Harry’s hip with his thumb, and Louis feels like his heart could explode from how much he never wants to let go of this boy.

“Lou,” Harry breathes out. Their eyes flit to each other, looking at nothing but only them. Louis is entranced by the green of Harry’s eyes; it’s been too long since he’s seen them so close.

“I love you,” Louis lets out unthinkingly, and once it’s out he doesn’t regret it. Harry’s breath hitches and his eyes widen at those words; he starts to breathe faster, his eyes filling with tears. Louis suddenly feels the need to say everything, to spill all the words and feelings he’s kept within him for the past years. “Fuck, Harry, I love you like I've never loved anyone before and I've missed you so much. I love your smile and your laugh and your goddamn green eyes and those stupid dimples and I’ve missed the way you wake up in my arms and make my tea without me asking and hold my hand secretly and keep me close when things get hard and those times we just lie down and talk about useless things until the sun comes up-“ Louis chokes on his words, and now it’s his eyes that fill with tears. Harry’s looking at him like he’s the world, gripping onto his arms like he’s never going to let go.

“Lou, me too, me too,” Harry says, and his tears start to spill, the smile on his face the happiest Louis’ ever seen it to be. “Lou, I love you too, so much, so much it hurts-“

“Shh, Haz, no, I’ll never hurt you again, I promise,” Louis whispers reassuringly, stroking Harry’s cheek as he presses light kisses over Harry’s face.

Harry hiccups as he giggles, and Louis’ heart swells in his chest. “I’ll hold you to that promise forever.”

Louis brings his hand to Harry’s left hand, finding the stupid, cheap ring he gave Harry all those years ago the year they first met. Louis whispers in Harry’s ear, “Forever?”

“Yeah, Lou, forever and ever and ever,” Harry says, and Louis hears the smile in his voice. “Never gonna let you out of my sight ever again.”

After that, there are no words left to say, only soft touches and sweet kisses and gentle thrusts and drawn-out moans. As they both reach their orgasms together, Louis rides his out in Harry’s tight hole, moaning nothing but Harry’s name and even more I love you’s to the boy underneath him. Harry holds onto his biceps, returning the three words as much as he can in low, harsh whispers into Louis’ love-bitten neck as he thrusts his hips up frantically. And, in the aftermath, Louis finds himself in the place he knows he was born to be in, right beside Harry, cuddling into him and keeping him warm like he knows he’s destined to.

And, five years later, when Louis finally sees his beloved Harry walk down the aisle looking absolutely stunning in his pure white tuxedo, he thinks that everything: all the pain, the tears, the yearning in the past years was definitely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading! This fic absolutely killed me as I was writing it. Fuck, I love these two boys. -A


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